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I Never Met a Rattlesnake I Didn’t Like: a Memoir
David Carpenter’s collection of essays explores a city boy’s love of the wild, a passion that has enriched his life from boyhood. At 80, this irrepressible Saskatchewan raconteur examines his intense fascination with predators large and small, and his awe in the face of the variety of creatures that may be out to get us—or who are out to get one another. How does this combination of fear and wonder affect our relationship with the natural world? And why has Carpenter personally been both drawn to, and repelled by, so many wild animals, including alligators, wolves, cougars, spiders, black bears, grizzlies, weasels, and of course, snakes, and particularly deadly rattlesnakes?
The stories that fuel the essays in this entertaining memoir are as diverse as the animals—and insects!—at the heart of Carpenter’s inquiry. As a young man, Carpenter is working in Jasper National Park, and he’s lugging his banjo—hustling on his way to a paid gig—when he takes a short cut through the woods, makes a wrong turn and ends up at the dump. He looks across at some large animals. Horses? No, five, count ‘em, five grizzlies. Luckily a ranger on an actual horse leads him out of danger. He’s fishing for brook trout in the mountains with a friend, cooling their catch in a convenient snow bank. But the fish keep disappearing. He finds them cached under a nearby rock, and when he tries to pull one out, he’s in a tug-of-war with some hidden creature, small but fierce—is it a mink?
Encounters like these drive the author into philosophical conjecture, into reading everything he can get his hands on about these and other creatures as he contemplates our place in the wild, and the value of the wild in our lives. These essays are essential reading for those of us who share David Carpenter’s fascination with the predators that so fundamentally shape our understanding of wilderness and the necessity to preserve it.
The stories that fuel the essays in this entertaining memoir are as diverse as the animals—and insects!—at the heart of Carpenter’s inquiry. As a young man, Carpenter is working in Jasper National Park, and he’s lugging his banjo—hustling on his way to a paid gig—when he takes a short cut through the woods, makes a wrong turn and ends up at the dump. He looks across at some large animals. Horses? No, five, count ‘em, five grizzlies. Luckily a ranger on an actual horse leads him out of danger. He’s fishing for brook trout in the mountains with a friend, cooling their catch in a convenient snow bank. But the fish keep disappearing. He finds them cached under a nearby rock, and when he tries to pull one out, he’s in a tug-of-war with some hidden creature, small but fierce—is it a mink?
Encounters like these drive the author into philosophical conjecture, into reading everything he can get his hands on about these and other creatures as he contemplates our place in the wild, and the value of the wild in our lives. These essays are essential reading for those of us who share David Carpenter’s fascination with the predators that so fundamentally shape our understanding of wilderness and the necessity to preserve it.
- GenresNonfictionMemoirNature
244 pages, Paperback
Published August 31, 2022
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39 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
April 3, 2023
The book is a series of essays, each recalling a past encounter or experience with a predacious animal of some sort. Carpenter, or Carp, as his friends refer to him, does a great job at recalling past encounters with grizzlies, wolves, cougars, and other mystified predators, but struggles at times when attempting his best Attenborough impersonation as he cites statistics and fun facts about the animals.
He does a great job, however, bringing to light the absurdity of the outrage some people feel towards these animals "encroaching" on civilization when you consider the ever-expanding nature of civilization and the encroaching we do on a daily basis into the territory of apex predators.
Ultimately, Carp has confirmed some of my feelings towards the world and how humans interact with nature, but he hasn't provoked any new thoughts regarding my place in the narrative. Would recommend this book to animal lovers and, especially, fly fishermen.
He does a great job, however, bringing to light the absurdity of the outrage some people feel towards these animals "encroaching" on civilization when you consider the ever-expanding nature of civilization and the encroaching we do on a daily basis into the territory of apex predators.
Ultimately, Carp has confirmed some of my feelings towards the world and how humans interact with nature, but he hasn't provoked any new thoughts regarding my place in the narrative. Would recommend this book to animal lovers and, especially, fly fishermen.
April 11, 2023
David Carpenter
I Never Met A Rattlesnake I Didn’t Like
Thistledown Press
I approached I Never Met A Rattlesnake I Didn’t Like thinking I myself have never met a snake—rattle or otherwise—that I did like. And so I was a little sceptical as I started this book. But it was easy to persevere: I know David Carpenter’s writing and how good it is. Carpenter is known for telling a good story, and he doesn’t disappoint. If you’re unfamiliar with his writing, you will be quickly enthralled by this engaging and entertaining writer who clearly loves both the art of writing and whatever he is writing about. Carpenter has been in the writing game for decades, has contributed greatly to fiction, poetry, and nonfiction, much of it rooted in his love of the great outdoors. This new volume calls itself a memoir, but it is so much more than that: through his personal experiences and thoughts, he becomes a conduit for the natural world.
From small to large, from mosquitoes, spiders, snakes, frogs, weasels, wild pigs, to coyotes, wolves, cougars, bears. And human beings, who are fishing, and building cabins. This skilled and enthusiastic raconteur tells personal stories about observing or being observed by the wide variety of creatures that have fascinated him since he was a small child eager to see his first snake. Carpenter is driven by interest, and curiosity, and fascination. The boy and subsequently the man finds himself fully at home in the natural world around him, and invites us along as he stops and observes the creatures and the world they inhabit. And, yes, their plight. What each animal faces as it tries to survive, and regenerate. Where can they belong? Some adapt more easily to human encroachment than others; coyotes, for example, may “hunker down on the fringes of small towns, and, most spectacularly, like the Beverly Hillbillies, some move to the city.”
The geographical centre for these essays is the fishing cabin Carpenter and his wife, “Kever,” have fashioned at Little Bear Lake in northern Saskatchewan, but the essays are definitely not limited geographically—we go north and south through the varied landscapes of Saskatchewan, Alberta, and B.C., and down into the U.S. and a dozen or so states, then back home again to Canada.
If you are, like me, interested in animals but not very knowledgeable, this is a book for you. The phrase “delightful instruction” springs to mind. With humour, compassion, and candour, Carpenter shares with us what he himself has learned both empirically and through close study, and he enchants us with his wisdom and humour. Through his care and attention the reader can’t help but care, even about the rattlesnakes. Well, maybe not about the feral pigs.
He’s not keen on every single animal, though, particularly invasive species like feral hogs, brought to America by settlers, which have become “the second most destructive animal in North America.” And “human beings are still securely in first place.”
In his introduction Carpenter writes of his interest in “the chain of predation from mosquitoes to polar bears in habitats where hunger and territory dictate the rules of the game” and points out almost tenderly that “they simply want to come home,” but “that home is the place—with our many roads, mines, oil rigs, clear-cuts, acreages, ski lodges, golf courses, theme parks, industrial suburbs, ranches, and farms--that has been taken from them.”
The underlying message throughout, couched in humour and compassion, is ominous. And yet one feels that all hope is not lost: Carpenter dwells in hope, and stresses the importance of educating ourselves so that we in turn can contribute to saving these ecosystems. In the epilogue, he reiterates: “Defending these living creatures from encroachment and slaughter might seem like an uphill battle, but defend them we must…. To do this we need to protect the world they live in….”
Readers of I Never Met A Rattlesnale I Didn’t Like will quickly realize how privileged we are to spend time with this entertaining and erudite lover of the natural world, and how important it is to get involved in saving it.
I Never Met A Rattlesnake I Didn’t Like
Thistledown Press
I approached I Never Met A Rattlesnake I Didn’t Like thinking I myself have never met a snake—rattle or otherwise—that I did like. And so I was a little sceptical as I started this book. But it was easy to persevere: I know David Carpenter’s writing and how good it is. Carpenter is known for telling a good story, and he doesn’t disappoint. If you’re unfamiliar with his writing, you will be quickly enthralled by this engaging and entertaining writer who clearly loves both the art of writing and whatever he is writing about. Carpenter has been in the writing game for decades, has contributed greatly to fiction, poetry, and nonfiction, much of it rooted in his love of the great outdoors. This new volume calls itself a memoir, but it is so much more than that: through his personal experiences and thoughts, he becomes a conduit for the natural world.
From small to large, from mosquitoes, spiders, snakes, frogs, weasels, wild pigs, to coyotes, wolves, cougars, bears. And human beings, who are fishing, and building cabins. This skilled and enthusiastic raconteur tells personal stories about observing or being observed by the wide variety of creatures that have fascinated him since he was a small child eager to see his first snake. Carpenter is driven by interest, and curiosity, and fascination. The boy and subsequently the man finds himself fully at home in the natural world around him, and invites us along as he stops and observes the creatures and the world they inhabit. And, yes, their plight. What each animal faces as it tries to survive, and regenerate. Where can they belong? Some adapt more easily to human encroachment than others; coyotes, for example, may “hunker down on the fringes of small towns, and, most spectacularly, like the Beverly Hillbillies, some move to the city.”
The geographical centre for these essays is the fishing cabin Carpenter and his wife, “Kever,” have fashioned at Little Bear Lake in northern Saskatchewan, but the essays are definitely not limited geographically—we go north and south through the varied landscapes of Saskatchewan, Alberta, and B.C., and down into the U.S. and a dozen or so states, then back home again to Canada.
If you are, like me, interested in animals but not very knowledgeable, this is a book for you. The phrase “delightful instruction” springs to mind. With humour, compassion, and candour, Carpenter shares with us what he himself has learned both empirically and through close study, and he enchants us with his wisdom and humour. Through his care and attention the reader can’t help but care, even about the rattlesnakes. Well, maybe not about the feral pigs.
He’s not keen on every single animal, though, particularly invasive species like feral hogs, brought to America by settlers, which have become “the second most destructive animal in North America.” And “human beings are still securely in first place.”
In his introduction Carpenter writes of his interest in “the chain of predation from mosquitoes to polar bears in habitats where hunger and territory dictate the rules of the game” and points out almost tenderly that “they simply want to come home,” but “that home is the place—with our many roads, mines, oil rigs, clear-cuts, acreages, ski lodges, golf courses, theme parks, industrial suburbs, ranches, and farms--that has been taken from them.”
The underlying message throughout, couched in humour and compassion, is ominous. And yet one feels that all hope is not lost: Carpenter dwells in hope, and stresses the importance of educating ourselves so that we in turn can contribute to saving these ecosystems. In the epilogue, he reiterates: “Defending these living creatures from encroachment and slaughter might seem like an uphill battle, but defend them we must…. To do this we need to protect the world they live in….”
Readers of I Never Met A Rattlesnale I Didn’t Like will quickly realize how privileged we are to spend time with this entertaining and erudite lover of the natural world, and how important it is to get involved in saving it.
November 25, 2022
Fascinating stories organized by the intensity and size of the predator, with each assigned their own section. From the mosquito to the man, Carpenter explores his personal encounters, research and obsessions with the animals we fear or loathe or love. Thanks for the fish.
September 23, 2025
Mr. Carpenter is a very good storyteller, and this book is about many of his personal accounts with various wildlife, some tamer (dragonflies) than others (bears). I don't share his enthusiasm with meeting up with some of his wild friends, but I can appreciate and respect his fascination in them.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews